A Different Kind of Darkness
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: Charn was doomed. Was doomed from the moment Jadis and her sister began their war, devastating their world with the magic they unleashed. The only questions remaining was when that doom would come. And what, if anything, would come after it...


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**A Different Kind of Darkness**

"You're late."

"Could be worse. Might have been dead."

"Then you'd still be late."

Azmael didn't laugh. He found Lucion's words humorous, but didn't dare show it. You didn't laugh in front of a noble. You didn't smile at your superior. You didn't show any sign of joy in these dark times. At least, not in front of those who were insisting that things would get better but until then, you shouldn't show joy lest you be considered a traitor.

"This is yours," Lucion said, handing his subordinate a torch. "As is this section of wall."

Azmael remained silent, again thinking of the "don't laugh" rule. He didn't point out that having a torch by him would make him an easier target if a rebel snuck up. He didn't want to point out that there was precious little difference between day and night nowadays, what with all the dust in the atmosphere. He didn't mention the fires on the horizon that signalled the advance of the rebel army towards Charn, fires that cast an eerie glow over the fields before the city's outer wall.

"And now I'm turning in," the noble declared. "Queen Jadis be praised."

"Jadis be praised," Azmael murmured, watching his superior descend towards the barracks.

"Jadis be damned," he muttered under his breath.

He didn't know how long he stood there. There was no way to mark the passing of time, at least not until the sun began to rise, and even then its golden light would be filtered out through the dust cloud thrown up by the magic employed by the warring factions. Factions that were nearing the end of their struggle. Sooner or later, the fires on the horizon would reach Charn. Sooner or later, Abella would lay siege to the city. And when that time came, Azmael knew that no quarter would be given. Within the month, his head would likely be on a pike somewhere.

Somehow, that didn't bother him as much as when the war first started, when the rebel queen Abella unleashed her magic against Charn's rightful ruler. Once, the idea that the crown jewel of the world (perhaps all worlds) would fall into the hands of a usurper, especially since the queen had shown herself to be equally adept at wielding such destructive forces. But now he could see what everyone could-Jadis had lost the war, and would never accept that. And unless in the unlikely event she had some greater weapon than her sister that could be used to turn the tide, she'd be quite willing to sacrifice every last member of Charn's citizens to stave off her defeat.

_At least I'm not out there…_Azmael thought to himself, watching yet another flash of light illuminate the horizon. _Better to die by the sword than by magic…_

It was such thoughts that consumed him right until he heard footsteps coming along the wall. Thoughts that still remained even as his attention drifted to the source of those footsteps.

"You're late," he grunted.

"And you're still rude."

"And you're still a slave."

"…you're not good at being cruel."

It was a sign of how bad things had become that even slaves were talking back to their masters. Either way, he took the mug of hot water from Khali-water was about the only thing that wasn't in short supply. The River Lethe still flowed as surely as blood did on the battlefield.

"Look on the bright side," Khali smiled as Azmael sipped from his mug. "You at least get to have _heated _water."

The soldier scowled. He knew what people like Khali were like. Slaves and lower beings of creation, taken from realms that had dared oppose Charn's magnificence. People that would likely escape the coming slaughter in that by virtue of being a slave, their loyalties were always changing as they were bartered. They'd serve Abella as well as they'd serve Jadis, or any other ruler.

"So…" Khali continued, looking out at the horizon. "How long until the rebels get here?"

"Who says they will?" Azmael asked. "For all you know, we may have some plan in the works that stops the scum from ever setting eyes on the crown-…"

"You're a bad liar you know."

_And you're still an underling._

In better times, he might have asserted his authority over people like Khali. But the fact of the matter was that everyone was a slave here. All part of a chain that led to the queen herself.

"It's funny…" Khali said. "Charn being under siege."

"Funny? How in all the worlds is this _funny_?"

"Funny as in it's how my great grandmother felt when Sorlois fell. Course I barely understood what she meant at the time, but…well, it's not a nice feeling is it? That feeling of helplessness. That feeling of being abandoned."

Azmael raised an eyebrow-"abandoned" wasn't the word he would have used. For all her faults, Queen Jadis had at least remained in the city (though far better for her to flee, be captured and let the war be over in his mind). But then again, Khali was of Sorlois. And if her ancestors had passed down their legends, then maybe "abandoned" made sense.

"Then again, Sorlois wasn't going to be struck with magic," Khali continued. "Nor was it fighting with the knowledge that even if it won the battle, it would still be facing a dust-shrouded world."

Another flash of light filled the horizon, more bright than anything so far this night. The magicians were giving it their all apparently.

"But I suppose it's the end times," the girl concluded, taking back Azmael's now empty mug. "So either our entire world is doomed, or we'll achieve salvation at the last moment."

Azmael snorted. "Sorlois…" he murmured. "Of course…"

"Of course what?"

"The Giant. The legend of the Giant. The creator of the world, breather of life, present in all worlds…"

"You've been reading."

"These days, I've got time on my hands," Azmael said.

"Then you know of the Giant and his country beyond this world. You know that in the end, only light or darkness awaits."

"I know that a sword or axe awaits me. Not sure about the light though. The sun hasn't come out in ages."

Khali remained silent. She was certainly correct about the world being screwed, the soldier thought-whichever side won would have to deal with everything from famine to the lingering effects of destructive magic. But there'd been too many myths built up over the years for him to see any truth in Sorlois's brand of 'truth', and even then it was one among many. The only truth there was right now was that shit happened, the people of this world did it on themselves, and if the Giant of myth had created it, he/she/it must have been long gone. Either moved on to greener pastures, or had turned away from this world in disgust.

And who could blame him?

Azmael turned back to the fields as the slave walked off. The fires came closer, as did steel and sorrow. And after that, darkness.

Maybe that wouldn't be so bad.

As yet more fires consumed the horizon, Azmael reflected that there was perhaps too much light left in this doomed world already.


End file.
